


Aphrodite.

by dnfsinner



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aphrodite Ships It, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sleeping Together, Smut, Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Teasing, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), consent is sexy as hell, dream loves george sm, dreamnotfound, hell yeah bro, it's really just cute shameless smut, it’s barely there, no beta we die like men, they’re in love your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnfsinner/pseuds/dnfsinner
Summary: Soft breaths fell from parted lips.What a beautiful sight to wake up seeing.George just happened to be that beautiful sight.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 438





	Aphrodite.

**Author's Note:**

> if the cc's are uncomfortable this will be deleted.
> 
> alright, so i've been working on this for a few months, like since December, and it's finally done. it's sweet and fluffy and cute and soft and aaagagaga.
> 
> enjoy :D
> 
> also, i am working on the 2nd part of Giving In just pls be patient bc i’m drained

Soft breaths fell from parted lips.

What a beautiful sight to wake up seeing.

George just happened to be that beautiful sight. 

  
  


Dream studied his face carefully, engraving every beautiful flaw in his head, wanting to remember every square inch of the angelic surface. 

He wanted to reach out and touch. Wanted to swipe his thumb across the soft skin and feel the perfect imperfections under his fingertips. 

George looked like a beautiful art piece, and Dream wished to be the artist. He wanted to paint his skin with beauteous bites and bruises and everything along those lines. 

Eyes traveled to his neck, the silky pale neck that Dream wanted to kiss and bite. It was small, and he wondered how easily his hand could wrap around it. How easily he could press down and make George writhe and gasp for air. 

Was it a bit fucked up to imagine choking his best friend while at the same time kissing him breathless at the crack ass of dawn? Maybe, but he couldn’t help himself. George looked so _tempting and_ _angelic,_ and Dream just wanted to _ruin_ him.

  
  


Maybe it was selfish. Selfish how Dream wanted to have George all to himself. But what did he care? He was a selfish person, after all. 

He gave in to his desire to touch, holding the other’s face in his hand, and cupped it with such gentleness as if he was trying not to wake a hibernating chipmunk.

Dream allowed himself to swipe his thumb across cheekbones, across faint freckles that looked almost too perfect, and across plush lips that felt way too soft. 

  
  


George was heaven in disguise. 

  
  


“Dream…?” a murmur fell from those soft lips. Eyelashes fluttered, and brown eyes met his own. “What are you doing?” 

His voice was alluring; the softness behind the British tone was pulling at Dream’s heartstrings in all the right directions. His eyes glistened as he looked up at the man who was leaning over him. 

Blond hair fell perfectly in his face as he looked down at George. 

  
  


“Just admiring the beauty,” Whispered Dream. The blush that crept up on pale cheeks, dusting them with a pink tint, made a fire ignite in Dream’s gut. “You’re so pretty, George. Aphrodite would be jealous.”

Lips parted with a gasp. “Dream…” It was said slowly, a slight hint of a whine bubbling in his throat. “Y-You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” He was pushing, yeah. But he couldn’t control himself anymore. “I’m only telling the truth.”

The blush became more prominent, painting his features with delicacy—Dream was the painter, and George was his canvas. 

A smile caught his lips. “Can you not handle the truth, Georgie?” 

In a swift motion, he kicked the duvet off of them and planted himself on top of the other, knees on either side of his hips. It left George stunned.

  
  


It was the second beautiful sight that morning. George looked utterly enticing under him—lips parted, red soaking up his pale face—and Dream just wanted to devour him whole. 

  
  


“I-It isn’t that.” George stumbled over his words, becoming more and more flustered as the seconds passed. Dream relished it. He enjoyed the fact that George was flustered because of him, and only  _ him.  _

George stared up at him, eyes glassy and submissive. And somehow, Dream knew that George liked this. George  _ liked  _ being called pretty. 

“Then tell me, pretty boy.” He was treading on the edge of death. He knew that. But he wanted George to tell him he liked it, wanted to  _ hear  _ it fall from his mouth. 

Dream dipped his head down, wrapping his hands around small wrists, gently pinning them on the mattress. He decided that he preferred this George—speechless, flushed, submissive—over the typical, nonchalant George. 

“It’s embarrassing.” the Brit whispered, avoiding Dream’s domineering gaze that burned through his skin. 

“ _ Tell me. _ ”

The low rumble of Dream’s voice was all it took for him to confess his sins. Lay them down at the altar, leaving him vulnerable. 

“I-I like it…” The words felt sinful, leaving his lips, stinging on his tongue like poison. “I like being called pretty.” 

Dream hummed. “I know,” he whispered, leaning down close to the other’s ear. He felt George shiver underneath him, and it only encouraged him further. 

  
  


“ _ My pretty baby. _ ”

  
  


Then, George fucking  _ lost  _ it. A loud, embarrassed whine slipped out. He tried to cover his mouth, forgetting the bigger and stronger hands that pinned him down. 

“Dream.” he gasps as hands tighten around his wrists. “You don’t know what y-you’re doing to me- ah!” 

Dream began to pepper kisses on his neck, right down to his Adam’s apple that bobbed beautiful as he swallowed. He looked back up. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes—yes, please.” George nodded, sighing when lips connected with his own. 

  
  


They were soft, plush, everything that Dream had ever imagined and  _ better.  _

It felt like he was still dreaming; kissing George has only ever happened in his dreams. 

  
  


Mouths molded into one, kissing each other with an intensity that had been building up for months on end. It was  _ exhilarating _ .

Breathy sighs escaped from the Brit as Dream gently nipped at his lips, favoring the noises he made. 

“You’re so perfect.” Dream whispered, pulling back and eyed glossy lips. 

George whimpered, hips rolling up at the praise. Dream chuckled before kissing him once more. 

George could smell the slightest amount of yesterday’s cologne along with Dream’s natural piney scent filling the air around him, making him dizzy. 

They pulled away, and Dream couldn’t get over that George was the prettiest person alive. 

  
  


Aphrodite could  _ never _ compare to the beauty he beholds. 

  
  


“Do you want this?” 

If Dream was treading on the edge earlier, he’s completely fallen off now. He was plummeting to the bottom of hell that seemed only to encase George. 

God, the things George did to him. 

  
  


The Brit nodded his head. “Please.”

He sounded so desperate, and Dream  _ thrived _ on it. 

  
  


Dream dipped his head down, delivering soft kisses in the crevice his collarbones. Teeth dug into the flesh, not hard, but enough where there would be a faint mark for a few minutes. Sweet, tender moans elicited from George, and oh boy, did Dream love them. 

He sucked marks into the skin around George’s neck and towards his  sternum. His hand released George’s wrists, and he sat back, admiring his work. 

Bruising, purple colors contrasted beautifully with milky skin. They scattered along George’s neck and collar like constellations. Dream brushed his thumb over one of the love bites, making George squirm underneath him. 

Dream scooted down George’s thighs, slipping his hands underneath blue cotton that covered his torso. 

George gasped. “Y-Your hands are cold.” 

Dream looked up at him, eyes unsure. “Is it okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” George nodded, squirming around as big hands ghosted up and down his sides, shirt riding up at the actions. “Feels good…” 

The blond leaned down and planted wet kisses on his stomach, going higher and higher until his breath hovered over George’s nipples. Dream made quick eye contact with him, smirking at the shocked expression, and allowed his tongue to dart out, flicking the bud. 

He pulled away, motioning for George to help take his shirt off. Once off, Dream tossed the blue fabric to the side, landing on the floor somewhere in the room, leaving George in his sleep shorts.

Dream admired the beauty. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking pretty, George. How the hell can someone be so beautiful?”

He was practically drooling at the sight of George, shirtless and desperate. Dream ran a hand across his stomach, noticing how it almost took up most of the surface. 

George was so  _ small _ compared to him. So pliable. 

  
  


“You’re so small, Georgie,” he whispered, thumbing at the Brit’s skin. He was mesmerized. 

George gasped as Dream’s nails ghosted over his stomach. “Is that a good thing?” he asked almost shyly. His eyes met green ones, and his stomach felt like it did a flip. 

“It’s more than that, Georgie,” he began, leaning down to kiss at the flesh. “I can hold you down so easily, baby.”

George whined, hips bucking slightly. “D-Dream, stop teasing.” 

The blond dipped his fingers beneath the elastic of the other’s shorts, pulling them down. He shifted a bit to allow the fabric to guide down pale legs. George gasped as cold air brushed the sensitive skin of his cock. 

George whimpered pathetically. The way Dream was staring down at him made him feel embarrassed and small. Dream still had all of his clothes on, while George had on nothing. There was something symbolic about it, but George couldn’t place his head around it. 

His cock twitched from the air, craving for the attention it deserved. “Please, Dream,” George whispered, words becoming more slurred as he slipped in a headspace he’s never been in before. 

“What do you want, baby? Hm?” hummed Dream, hand rubbing on the inside of one of George’s thighs. He squeezed the smallest amount of fat that was there, making George gasp. “Tell me.”

The Brit whined, the big hand burning invisible marks in his skin. He wanted Dream to leave bruises. Wanted Dream to mark him, kiss him, make him cum. 

George was just as selfish as Dream. 

  
  


“Touch me,” he begged. “Please, I need it.” 

His tip was red and leaking pre-cum onto his stomach, the substance glistening from the sun that peeked through the curtains of the bedroom. Dream swore that was the third beautiful sight he saw this morning.

Dream guided a finger to ghost the length of his cock, smirking from the way it twitched from his touch. He used his other hand to hold George’s hips down, and he wrapped his hand around the cock. 

“Dream!” George whimpered, eyes fluttering shut from the jolts of pleasure that raked through his body.

Dream’s hand wrapped around the entire width of him, engulfing his dick. He slowly flicked his wrist up and down, gathering the pre-cum that had leaked from the tip and spreading over the length. 

“Oh fuck!” George moaned, his hand flying up to cover the obscene noises that fell from his mouth. How was he  _ this sensitive _ ?

Dream circulated the tip, digging his thumb in the slit. It wasn’t painful, thankfully. “You like that, baby?” he whispered. 

He was enjoying this, enjoying the way George’s face twisted in pleasure all because of him. It awakened  _ some type _ of possessiveness that hid beneath his skin—possessiveness over George. 

Dream growled. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” he quickened his pace. “My pretty boy…” 

"Yes!” George moaned out, bucking his hips into the hand that was jerking him off oh so well. “I’m s-so close, Dream.” 

Dream continued his pace, pumping his cock with expertise. 

“Dream! Dream, please!” 

  
  


Just as George was close to falling off the edge, Dream stopped. 

The Brit whined, thrashing his arms. “Dream—”

“I want us to finish together.” Dream interrupted. It was the first time he had sounded shy, his face flushing a deep red from the request. “I-If that’s fine with you.” 

George nodded his head. “Yes,” he said, exasperated. “Yes, please.” 

Dream grinned, quickly getting off of the other’s lap and stripped himself of his clothes. George’s eyes widened when his focus centered towards Dream’s body. 

He was built; that much was obvious. George had seen Dream multiple times without his shirt, which was also evident, but it hadn’t been under these circumstances. 

There was also the fact that his dick was fucking  _ huge.  _

_ Holy hell, _ George thought. 

  
  


“You like what you see?” 

George snapped his head to look up at the blond. “I… I wasn’t expecting you to be so  _ big. _ ”

Dream smirked. “In what context, sweet pea?”

The brunet rolled his eyes, a playful smile coming to rest on his lips. “Shut up, idiot.” He felt the bed dip.

Dream leaned down to give a quick kiss. “Make me.” he quipped, maneuvering them around, so George was straddling him. 

George planted his hands on Dream’s torso, his head trying to fan away from the screaming thoughts of,  _ oh my god, his dick is touching my ass right now.  _

  
  


“You’re such an idiot.” he chuckled. 

“Your idiot.”

George giggled, leaning down to plant numerous kisses on the male’s face. “I guess so.” 

Their mouths connected once more, the older letting out a soft moan when Dream thrusts his cock between his asscheeks. 

George kisses down to the other’s neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses in his wake. He bites and nibbles at the skin, marks that will soon be a mulberry purple arising. He leans back, admiring his work. 

“You know,” George starts, dragging an index finger over the marks, feeling the slight residue of spit. “You look good with hickies.”

Dream snorts. “Thanks, someone very special gave them to me.” He wraps his hand around the other’s small wrist and pulls it away, intertwining their fingers together. 

“Yeah?” The Brit teases. “Who would that be?” 

“Oh, I dunno. Just this guy.” 

“This guy?” George repeats, a delicate eyebrow raised. 

Dream tilts his head in thought. “A very pretty guy, like, aphrodite pretty.” His smile plays on his lips, releasing the hand in his grasp. 

“You’ve already said that analogy, Dream. It’s getting old.” 

“Yeah, but it’s true.” Dream jerks the smaller down, crashing their lips together, the older eliciting a short, muffled squeak. 

  
  


They kissed each other breathless. 

  
  


If heaven were just as good as George, Dream wouldn’t mind dying in his arms. At least he would die happy.

He quickly adjusts George’s position on his lap, enabling easy access to both of their cocks. His hand is big enough to engulf the two, and it makes George moan aloud. 

“God fuck, your hands are so big.” George moans. The slow, antagonizing pace the other went wasn’t enough. “Please go faster, Dream—”

The blond obeyed his request. 

The room was filled with breathy moans and gasps from the two men. Dream  _ lived _ for it. Lived for the way the morning sun cascades throughout the room, leaving an iridescent light on pale skin. 

George looked like a god sitting on his throne; Dream was his throne. 

  
  


The Brit groans. “Fuck!” Strings of white spurred from his cock, which was the final straw for Dream, cumming almost instantaneously as he watched George ride out his high. 

“Oh my god…” Dream moans aloud, both cocks pulsing in his hand. “You did so well, George.” He says, using a free hand to bring George down to his lips. 

  
  


“Come on, let’s get us cleaned up.” 

**Author's Note:**

> twt @dnfsinner  
> follow me!
> 
> constructive criticism is appreciated.


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